Wisdom of Self
by LoptyrOfJugdral
Summary: Dabbles of what could have been had Gen I of Genealogy resolved differently. Levin/Deet'var


_Context: This is a "Happy" Resolution Gen I of Genealogy. Happy in the sense everyone lives, Lopto Sect is defeated, and the events of Gen II are nullified. I̶ ̶m̶e̶a̶n̶ ̶i̶f̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶i̶g̶n̶o̶r̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶f̶a̶c̶t̶ ̶Q̶u̶a̶n̶ ̶b̶e̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶a̶r̶o̶u̶n̶d̶ ̶d̶o̶e̶s̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶e̶x̶a̶c̶t̶l̶y̶ ̶s̶o̶l̶v̶e̶ ̶T̶h̶r̶a̶c̶i̶a̶'̶s̶ ̶p̶r̶o̶b̶l̶e̶m̶s̶.̶_

Levin scurried from room to room, desperately seeking for something. He arrived late, busy with kingly affairs. However that was no excuse. He searched wildly like a bear starving for food, taking each step with caution for how much time is being lost.

He eventually saw his mother just outside a room. Her hands were clasped together, staring up to the ceiling as if she were looking to the gods above.

His chest expanded and contracted as he tried to draw words out of himself. "Mother..is she?"

Rahna could only nod, her eyes closed and in deep prayer.

Levin stood in front of the door. He briefly made his own prayer. _Oh Earth Mother, bless me with good fortune._

Clasping the handle, he slowly emerged into the room. A small practical room, on the second floor with a small window protruding to the outside world. He drew his eyes to his beloved in a bed, surrounded by nurses. His presence attracted their attention but Deet'var looked resolutely at her husband. In her hands was a small blanket wrapped together, nestling against her robe.

Levin walked toward his wife, looking to her. His eyes were bordering tears, the uncertainty of it all was eating away at his mind. Deet'var raised her right hand toward Levin's face, nudging his cheek along the way to back of his head. Deet'var edged him forward, pressing him forward to the blanket.

Wrapped all around but the face was a small baby. The baby's eyes were evergreen, same with its small blotch of hair. The baby's eyes darted across the room, confused, until it began to cry.

Levin smiled. "So the baby is-"

"A girl." Deet'var laughed, waiting in full anticipation to say those words. "I get to name her."

Levin chuckled. "So what's her name?"

Deet'var looked at their child, and soothed her cries. "I'm going to name you Misha."

Levin extended his arms toward Deet'var. Understanding his intent she gently handed Misha over to Levin. Grasping her in his arms, he looked toward her. For a time, Levin was unable to form any words.

"You are my daughter….and I am your father. I promise that I will make you proud..and I'm going to teach to never be ashamed of who you are."

12 Years Later

All the castle was in a frenzy. The Duke of Zaxon was scheduled to appear soon, and the castle had not yet been prepared well enough. Misha sat by the top stair in the shadows, looking down upon the dozens of servants scurrying for the proper ceremony. She did not want to partake in the festivities. She knew it was tradition but she just wasn't fond of these sort of things.

"Hiding from the festivities, eh?"

Misha turned back to see her father standing. Levin sits beside her, grasping her by the shoulder as we waved his hand across the entire courtroom.

"You know, when I was your age, I absolutely hated these little ceremonies."

Misha chuckled upon her hearing this. "Father, do you like the ceremonies now?"

Levin kept his grin up. "Oh no, I hate these more than ever now. But I understand why I we do this. Come now, let's go meet your cousin."

-

Several carriages drive into the courtyard, circling the center fountain. The one closest to the palace entrance opens up. A man emerges from the carriage. He carried himself in a dignified manner as he moved straight forward to Levin.

"My liege, it is an honour to see you after so long." Musar remained still with his head bent low. The man was nowhere near the appearance of his father. His face was much smoother and his hair kept straight, but thankfully, gods be praised, nowhere near as ugly.

Levin gestured his hand lifting. "At ease cousin. We have much to discuss. Let's go inside."

Misha walked down the hallway toward the dining hall. It had been a long while since any new company had visited the palace.

From the corner of the dining hall she saw Musar. He stood leaning against the wall with a determined stare.

Noticing her, he walked closer to her and bent his head to catch her eye. "I don't think we have ever actually met before now."

Misha replies back curious to hear what the young lord had to say. "I don't believe we have. What can I do for you, Duke Musar?"

Musar gestured his hand flippantly. "Your presence was all I needed. I merely wished to witness for myself the Whore's Child."

Misha was taken aback, the full weight on his words pressed on Misha's mind. She prayed in her heart that she had misheard his words. "Pardon?"

Musar's veins began to visibly appear. "Are you deaf? I'm referring to you. Your mother once served this kingdom. She betrayed your father, and sided with mine. She was captured and I can only assume your father made her his whore. I was not there when my father died, but I was told by my maids."

Misha could not keep her mouth closed, horrified at his words. "I-"

Musar's face became ripe with blood. "When my father went to face yours...the maids found his body...in the snow. He had collapsed. His lips were chapped...he breathed no longer. _Our_ King Levin thought it just to deny my father even a breath to say his last words."

A single tear threw itself down his cheek. However the rest of his face did not falter in his anguish. Misha could only race her mind at what to say.

"What would you have me do?" The atmosphere between them was hostile, as if they're drawing swords. Misha felt a rush of adrenaline flow through her body, something much more potent than any mock battle she had engaged in with her mother.

With his right arm, Musar drew his cloak and rubbed his nose, wiping his excrement. "Renouncing your claim would be a start, but loathe that is not likely to happen." He made a strange noise then, akin to a hiccup. _._

Misha thought to herself, _what was that sound?_ _Was I mistaken? Hm... regardless, I ought to just go._

Misha could only press onward, hoping to keep this event under wraps. She walked past Musar, not even looking back. Suddenly she heard the steps behind her accelerate and promptly sped up her own speed. Musar's hand grabbed her arm and pushed her back, forcing her to fall at the floor against the wall.

Musar towered over Misha, and his glare and expression became hardened as stone. "You're just like your father. You're weak. You'd rather scurry away like a rat than confront the problem head on. It was your father who very well caused the war through inaction, and you will die without so much as resistance. Pathetic."

Musar focused his neck muscles to collect enough, and with one swift action released spit onto Misha. With her conviction, she began to speak, lifting herself upward as she did.

"With all due respect...it was your father who wanted to bear the crown that lies on my Father's head-"

Daccar lifted his leg and jammed into the side of Misha's left knee, unable to dodge Misha fell back onto the ground.

"Hate me as much as you'd like. You speak of blood and traitors, yet my father is King, and I bear the mark of Holsety-"

Musar's blood boiled, and in that instant he turned to her side and kicked Misha harder, sliding across the floor. From his cloak he slid a dagger. He bent downward to Misha, grasping his dagger.

"I would allow you to speak a few last words, but sadly my father was never given that luxury. So neither will I give your last words. Farewell, my-"

"MISHA!" A shout came from the hall. Deet'var ran toward them both and tackled into Musar, pressing against him to the wall.

Musar struggled to stab his dagger into Deet'var, aiming it toward her ribs. Deet'var managed to grab his hand before it pressed into her. Musar's left hand raised itself to punch into Deet'var's face. However, before he could realize it his left hand became numb. Then his shoulder, and then his feet. Across the hall he saw King Levin grasping a Sleep Staff.

In frustration he screamed his last words. "Levin, you bastard!" With all his might, he reached as far he could to throw the punch at Deet'var. However Deet'var was far stronger than the noblemen, and raised her hand to block his blow. He pressed and pressed into her hand with all the force his body would allow, until he heard a crack in the wrist of his hand.

He yelled in pain until the Sleep spell reached its full effect, numbing his body and putting him mind into a deep sleep.

Misha was patched up by the healers. No significant damage was done, but her body, in particular her right leg, was incredibly sore, and so she was allowed no intense training for a while.

 _Knock, knock._

"Whom is it?"

"It's us, Misha." Levin entered into the room alongside Deet'var, who immediately hugged her daughter.

Deet'var then turned to Misha's, her expression in shivers. "I know the clerics told me time and time again, but are you truly sure you're alright?"

Misha simply laughed, dismissing her mother's concern. "Mother... yes, I'm better. Nothing a few days of rest can't fix." Yet, the laugh and the reassurance sounded hollow.

The silence grew between the three. Misha had been distraught since the incident and neither Deet'var nor Levin could guess at what. Despite what Musar had done, no considerable damage was done to her, yet Misha had been silent the whole time.

Small tears began to form at the corners of her eyes, "Musar told me I'm…...a child of a whore.."

Deet'var hugged her daugher, Misha's face pressed against her mother's shoulder. "I made a lot of mistakes in my life, but having you as my daughter was not one of them."

Levin sat beside them both on the bed. "When I became engaged with your mother many years ago, half the kingdom thought I had lost my mind. But in time, they grew to love your mother and love you as well. But there are still those out there bitter at my ascension, and they will mock you."

Deet'var pressed on, soothing her daughter's tears. "No matter what they say, about me or about you, never take it to heart. Prove them wrong, like your father and I have. You will always have detractors in your way. Show them that none of their mockery will bar your path. Show them that none of their weapons will stop you. Show them that no one will stand in your way."

Misha hugged her mother and father as hard as she could, pressing her face against their shoulders. "I promise I'll strive to become the best, even better than both of you. So that I can demonstrate to everyone that I am so much than any label they throw against me."

Deet'var and Levin pressed themselves into embrace of their daughter. Proud of her conviction, they left Misha to rest, for that night all three of them dreamt of brighter days.


End file.
